


Glimpses

by Majinie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Cross-Roads Deals, Crowley cares, Crying, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add to these as I go along, Independent One-Shots, M/M, Making out on Adrenaline, Marvel References, Matchmaker Gabriel, Matchmaker Sam Winchester, Sam and Gabriel are not subtle, Sassy Crowley, Valentine's Day, Why is that not a tag?!, Winchesters are self-sacrificing idiots, crowley deserves to be loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: Sunday: Fluff (Geeking out together, cuddling, being #nerds, maybe some moments you think we miss on the show?)~ DestielMonday: First kiss, first fight, first time~ DrowleyTuesday: The moment they knew (that “ah ha” moment)~ DestielWednesday: Outsiders perspective (what other people see)~ DrowleyThursday: Valentine’s day or just general Date night (where they go, funny escapades that occur, etc.)~ Destiel with a side of SabrielFriday: AU~ DestielSaturday: Jealousy, misunderstandings aka the angst™~ Drowstiel





	1. Fluff (Destiel)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HikariYumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariYumi/gifts).



> So I took the liberty of borrowing the prompts from the Sastiel Love Week (which you should totally check out on tumblr, by the way) and the lovely Hikari and I engaged in a little challenge during the past week. One ficlet a day, basically, based on the headcanon the other sent. You absolutely need to check out her version, too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday Prompt: Fluff (Geeking out together, cuddling, being #nerds, maybe some moments you think we miss on the show?)  
> "What do you mean you like Captain America more than Iron Man? Tony is definitely more awesome! Seriously Cas, get your facts straight!" Cas and Dean watching Marvel movies, and they don't agree on everything...

Dean looked up and grinned at the sound of wings announcing Castiel's arrival.

“Hi, Cas,” he greeted and patted the bed next to him. “Sit down.”

The angel tilted his head at him. “Is something the matter?” he asked while he gingerly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Damn straight,” Dean answered seriously. “We, buddy, are on a mission.” He frowned at the angel's attire and waved a hand vaguely. “Get comfy. Lose the trench coat.” He reached for one of the beers he had placed on the night stand and handed it to Cas.

For a moment, Cas stared blankly at the bottle and then back up at him. “I'm not sure I understand...?”

“Pop culture,” the hunter responded curtly. “Now, trench coat off, we're starting with Iron Man and see where it goes from there. Chronologically, it'd be Captain America, of course, but...” He rambled on while Castiel obediently squirmed out of his coat and settled on the mattress next to Dean, looking a little awkward but not necessarily averse to the whole idea.

As he'd announced, Dean started by introducing the angel to Iron Man – Cas was sceptical at first, but after a few minutes, his eyes were glued to the screen and he was following the proceedings with rapt attention. The hunter smirked, satisfied, and leaned back against the headboard, alternating between watching the movie and watching Cas. They followed the movie up with _The First Avenger_ , neither of them talking much except for Dean's occasional commentary about comic facts, quite some sentences beginning with “I'm not gonna spoiler you or anything, _but_ ” and possibly a remark or two concerning Hayley Atwell and Gwyneth Paltrow.

Toward the end of the second film, Dean caught himself yawning more than once, comfortably sprawled out on the bed as he was. Cas was clutching his apparently forgotten bottle of beer between both hands while he stared, transfixed, watching Steve's and Peggy's final conversation play out.

Dean should have done this sooner.

“Alright, I'm gonna hit the hay now,” he announced after the credits had rolled and Castiel, completely enchanted, had watched the post-credit-scene. “We can continue this another day.”

The angel nodded enthusiastically as he responded: “I would like that, yes. I didn't expect it to be quite this... captivating.”

Dean smirked. “Well, most of the films are pretty awesome. I should hope you find them captivating.”

Another nod from Cas. “I especially like the bond Steve and Bucky share.” He frowned briefly. “Shared?”

“Don't worry, he'll be back,” Dean reassured. “And yeah, they're cute. Don't hold a candle to Tony, though.”

The small, contemplative frown returned to Cas' face and stayed there. “I am not sure I would put it that way,” he said. “I think I prefer the Captain's sense of righteousness over Stark's thoughtless, impulsive ways.”

Dean sputtered and sat up straight on the bed. “Excuse me?” he said. “Did you just – okay, first of all, it's not like Steve isn't impulsive. He's impulsive even when he's like five foot tall with a big mouth and nothing but bravado and Bucky to back it up – and yeah, Tony was maybe not considering the consequences of everything he did at the beginning, but he got better after he realised it.”

“Steve didn't need to be shown,” Cas argued, turning toward his friend.

The hunter pointed his beer bottle at him. “Oh, I'm sorry, but people can _change_. He's got a proper development over the various movies.” He paused, contemplating that for a second. “Which is actually sort of sad. But that's not the point.” The angel cocked his head at him, considering that. “Plus Tony has a better taste in music.”

Cas huffed a small, rare laugh that made Dean beam at him (and if that was sappy, he'd blame the beers he'd had). “I'll consider him,” he decided. “I still believe I prefer the Captain.”

Dean snorted. “Don't worry. We'll cure you of that, too.”


	2. First kiss, first fight, first time (Drowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday Prompt: First kiss, first fight, first time  
> "if you gonna be an idiot, then your idiot soul is mine" - Dean is desperate to do everything to save  
> His brother once again. Crowley can't change that, but at least he can save Deans soul through making the contract himself. #first kiss#  
> Sam is saved but of course heaven and hell don't stay put. Another catastrophe starts to unfold, Dean develops another suicide plan but before he can secretly leave, Crowley stops him. "What do you want to do? Get yourself killed? Don't forget that your soul and life are mine! I decide when you're dying, not you." #first fight#  
> Dean, Sam and Crowley are out for a few beers (and cocktails) after a hunt. They finished the job but it didn't go too well. Sam retires early and Dean wants to hook up against his frustration. Crowley kind of calls dibs, even though they don't really have this kind of relationship yet. He doesn't want to let anyone else see overwhelmed and vulnerable Dean. #first time# ✅

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I cheated with this one and only filled the first part of the prompt because we with one ficlet a day, I wanted to keep the length limited - I might get back to this one day and fill the rest. ;)

Dean stuffed the box with shaking hands, sitting behind the steering wheel of the Impala. He tried to take a deep breath before he got out of the car, but he didn't manage more than an aborted gasp before his lungs refused their function again.

  
It had been like that ever since he'd lost Sammy. Again. And he was not having that.  
  
His throat dry as parchment, he stumbled out of the Impala and buried the small box as quickly as possible under the dry soil of the crossroads.  
  
Then, he got up and crossed his arms to hide the tremor in his hands while he looked around, waiting for the demon of the day to appear in front of him.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, squirrel?"  
  
Dean jumped a whole foot backwards. Crowley hadn't bothered with the whole drama of appearing behind him to startle him; instead, he had turned up right in front of the hunter to snap the words right into his face.  
  
"Crowley?" he uttered, confused. "Why are you-"  
  
"No, you answer me, Dean. What are you doing?"  
  
The hunter clenched his jaw and avoided Crowley's eyes, opting to stare at the ground to his feet instead. In a choked whisper, he answered: "Sammy."  
  
"For fuck's sake," Crowley cursed. "After all you've seen and done, haven't you learned your bloody lesson yet?"  
  
Dean tore his eyes away from the pebbles covering the crossroads to glare at Crowley. "Anyone ever told you you're shit at self-advertisement?" he spat. "I don't need this from you, just send me one of your underlings so I can make the fucking deal!" He sounded more desperate than anything else and he hated it, but he needed Sammy back. He needed this damn deal.  
  
"Not happening," Crowley responded icily. "You know better than that."  
  
"You can't stop me from doing this," Dean snapped angrily, but the demon just narrowed his eyes at him, stalking forward.  
  
He jabbed a finger at Dean's chest, making the hunter flinch, and retorted with equal volume: "I bloody well can, I'm the king of Hell!"  
  
Dean deflated and bit his lip against the frustrated tears welling up in his eyes, averting his gaze. He needed his brother, Crowley knew that.  
  
There was a harsh, frustrated sigh from the King of Hell and Crowley's finger dropped from his chest.  
  
"Fifteen years and no trying to kill me, I bring your bloody moose back," the demon decided, sourly.  
  
Dean's eyes snapped back towards him, wide and surprised. "What?" Then, "fifteen? Why?"  
  
"Are you going to start complaining about it, too, you masochist?" Crowley griped. "Because I don't hate you lot as much as I originally planned to. And let's face it, you're probably going to get yourself killed before that anyway. But if you're going to be an idiot, then your idiot soul is mine."  
  
There was something fiercely possessive in his voice, but Dean wasn't in the state of mind to worry about that now. It felt like an iron band constricting his chest for the past thirteen hours since Sam had died had suddenly been removed and he could take his first free breath in ages.  
  
"I-" He swallowed. "It's a deal."  
  
"And don't thank me too enthusiastically," Crowley grumbled. "God forbid."  
  
He stepped forward to reach up and cup the back of Dean's neck with a warm hand – and right, yes, there was that part of making a deal, too. The touch was surprisingly grounding, even as Crowley pulled him down to his level, not breaking eye contact all the while. Dean hadn't quite lost his wide-eyed, panicked expression yet and his breathing was only starting to even out, but the restless fear that had been churning in his stomach ever since Sam had died was starting to settle. He was getting his brother back.  
  
"Relax," Crowley murmured. He was close enough that Dean could feel his breath. "It'll be fine."  
  
With that, he leaned up and kissed Dean, sealing their deal - the feeling of a beard against his lips was strange, but not bad, and the tingle of power when the contract was irrevocably completed caused a shiver down the hunter's spine. He grabbed Crowley's shoulder, trying to convey the thank you that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to speak out loud by kissing him back just before the demon pulled away. Crowley made a surprised, but definitely pleased sound and his free hand found its way to Dean's waist.  
  
They parted a minute later, Dean now breathing a little harder for an entirely different reason than before, and Crowley smirked at him.  
  
"You're welcome," he said. "Now, I think Sam is going to want to talk to you."

 


	3. The moment they knew (Destiel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday Prompt: The moment they knew (that “ah ha” moment)  
> It has been a few years since Castiel raised Dean from perdition, and they shared a profound bound from this day. But it wasn't until the day the Winchester brothers found their Angel, once again tortured by his own kind, desperately protecting them, that Dean realized. This night Dean actively takes care of Castiel the first time. Sam smiles to himself.

Dean rushed into the warehouse as soon as the last angel dropped. Crowley had assisted them – otherwise, the Winchesters would never have gotten the better of the celestial warriors guarding the building. Not without their own angel.

“Cas!” he called out as he strode further into the abandoned hall. He spotted the angel a second later, strung up by his wrist on one of the columns holding the building's ceiling. The trench coat was missing and his shirt was unbuttoned, torn in some places, exposing his bloodied chest. None of the cuts looked lethal by themselves, but Dean could see a faint shimmering of Grace where they broke the skin.

As quickly as he could, he he picked the locks on Castiel's handcuffs, murmuring to the angel all the while. _Cas? C'mon, Cas, answer me. Hey,_ _don't do this. Wake up._ Cas flinched from his touch with a wordless, pleading sound even as the first cuff fell from his chafed wrist. The angel's arm dropped to his side limply, but he still hadn't opened his eyes.

Dean hurried with the second cuff, which was now holding Cas' entire weight. He wouldn't pretend to be able to read a word of Enochian, but if he had to guess, the sigils engraved in them probably bound his Grace.

Cas still didn't seem to have noticed his presence.

He slumped bonelessly once the second cuff snapped open and Dean caught him hastily, gently guiding him to the floor. He felt nearly physically sick with worry for the pale angel.

“Cas?” he murmured. “Hey, come on, buddy, talk to me.” He cradled Castiel closer and stroked a bloodied strand of hair from his forehead. Cas was breathing, he just didn't seem all that inclined to wake up. “Cas, please,” Dean whispered and shakily exhaled in relief when the angel curled closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth with a pained little sound before his eyes fluttered open, unfocussed and searching.

“Dean?”

The hunter gave a relieved, breathy laugh and tightened his hold on his angel, mindful of his injuries. “Yeah. Yeah, it's me.” Cas shifted a little closer yet. “I'm never sending you off on your own again like that.”

Cas' eyes cleared a little as they found Dean's face, still squinting like that might speed up the process. Dean pulled the angel's head against his chest and breathed into his hair for a minute.

“Dean?” Cas made inquisitively into the hunter's shirt, his voice even more ragged than usual. Dean wondered whether he could feel the tremor in his hands.

Not that it really mattered. What mattered was that he had his angel back with him, because if he had lost him to Heaven for good, he wouldn't have known what to do. It wasn't the same as with Sammy – yes, he _needed_ Cas, but not in the way he needed his brother. There was something else there that he'd never been able to pin down, though it seemed closer now that he had his angel pressed against his chest, one of his hands weakly curled around the fabric of Dean's shirt. The hunter stroked a hand through the soft hair curling on the back of Castiel's neck, soothing his angel (or maybe himself, if he was completely honest) with a constant stream of quiet reassurances.

His angel. He paused, consciously taking notice of the possessive pronoun for the first time. _His_.

Oh. _So that's what it was._

Maybe it ought to surprise him more than it did, but he'd have time for tha later.

“Come on,” he muttered as he steadied Castiel while they got to their feet. “Let's get you home.”

~

So they did; Sam stared, but didn't question it when Dean handed him the Impala's keys and manoeuvred Cas and himself into the back seat. The Angel was still only half-conscious, but now that his Grace was no longer bound, he slowly seemed to be returning to the land of the living.  
  
He leaned heavily against Dean's side nevertheless while they drove back, occasionally wincing or making involuntary little sounds of pain when he was jostled. Dean found himself glaring at Sam on those occasions, despite the fact that he knew his brother wasn't to blame for the state of the roads around here. He held Cas closer as though that might help and waited out the rest of the drive.  
  
None of them spoke much, all of them in various states of exhaustion and injury, and Dean had started to feel drowsy by the time they arrived back at the bunker.  
  
With Cas attached to his side, Dean climbed out of the car and frowned at Sam, who stood in front of the door with an expectant look on his face, his arms half-extended.  
  
“What?” he demanded.  
  
Sam blinked at him. “Well, we're here, I thought you'd be glad to hand him over,” he replied.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, noting how Cas surreptitiously burrowed a little closer into his side.  
  
“I'm fine," he responded curtly. "I've got this.”  
  
Sam raised his hands in defeat, apparently taken aback by something in his brother's tone. “Alright, fine. It's just that you usually...”  
  
“Well, it's not usually, just open the damn door,” Dean snapped in annoyance. Cas flinched and the hunter held him a little closer. “Sorry. Just tense. Let's get inside, yeah?”  
  
Sam gave him a long, indecipherable look before he nodded. “Yeah. Let's.”  
  
Dean missed his brother's barely-there little smile because right after the door had opened, he'd half-walked, half-carried Cas to his room and sat him down on the bed there. The Angel was rubbing at his raw wrists absently and stared up at Dean with slightly widened blue eyes, tilting his head, when the hunter pulled back from the constant physical contact they had maintained since the warehouse.  
  
“I'm just getting something to clean you up,” Dean promised reassuringly. At Cas' careful nod, he hurried to the bathroom to fetch a damp cloth and a towel. He felt reluctant to leave his Angel alone for longer than strictly necessary, so he was back a minute later; Cas hadn't moved, but was picking at the scab forming on his wrists.  
  
Dean caught one of his hands and pulled it away. “Don't,” he murmured quietly. “Let's get you out of that shirt, eh?”  
  
Cas pliantly let him remove the torn dress shirt. The wounds on his chest had started to heal already, but he looked exhausted still; his Grace probably needed a longer time to replenish than his vessel.  
  
Since he made no move to start cleaning himself, Dean wordlessly cupped his Angel's face and began to wipe blood and tear stains off his cheeks carefully. Cas actually leaned into the touch, his eyes closing contentedly, and Dean felt briefly tempted to kiss him before he pushed the thought down firmly and continued in his ministrations.  
  
Cas let him until they had removed as much of the blood and grime as was possible without an actual shower, and then maybe a little longer.  
  
Eventually, he caught Dean's wrist in his hand. After they had both been silent for so long, his rough voice almost came as a bit of a shock.  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” he said quietly. Hey, he was talking again.  
  
The hunter looked away. “Yeah, well, it's the least I could do after you got into trouble for us.”  
  
Cas didn't even try to deny that. “Still. Thank you.”  
  
Dean raised his gaze again and smiled. "Anytime, buddy." He suppressed a yawn. "I know it's... not your thing, but I'm ready to hit the hay. You could... stay the night? Just while you recover?"  
  
Cas tilted his head at him as if to try and figure out what that offer entailed. Whatever conclusion he reached appeared to please him, because he gave Dean one of his rare, small smiles and nodded.  
  
“I would like that, yes.”


	4. An outsider's perspective (Drowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday Prompt:Outsiders perspective (what other people see)  
> The King of hell is a sassy and cruel demon. In theory. Bold people said he had grown soft after hanging around with the Winchesters, especially Dean, then they were tortured and killed. It didn't help the Kings reputation though. In the end he decides to use his relationship to Dean to his advantage. Every aspect. In the end Dean isn't only a powerful ally but a quite passionate lover too. ✅

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now look at that, I actually managed to keep a ficlet short. :D

 

Violet was a low-ranking demon. Freshly baked, basically. And Hell wasn't kind to its lesser citizens.  
  
So, really, could anyone blame her for wanting to speed up her ascent a little? She'd been led on by a group of elder demons and honestly, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.   
  
Swallowing, she pressed herself deeper into the shadows when she heard voices coming her way.   
  
"... tried to kill Sam and you. There's no way I'm letting even one of the little bastards live." Gruff, American, rough with anger.   
  
"I'm sure working yourself up like this is bad for your blood pressure." Scottish, sarcastic, drily amused.   
  
"Very funny." Two figures entered her field of vision and Violet ceased to breathe entirely.   
  
The tall one, the one who'd last spoken, was wiping a wicked-looking knife on his jeans while he cast a brief look around the badly lit room. There were some minor cuts and bruises on him, but the amount of blood on his flannel shirt was too much to be his own.  
  
His companion, considerably shorter, looked immaculate even with the blood staining his hands. His black suit looked like it was fresh from the laundry, with no sign of uncleanliness.   
  
The human seemed a little out of breath, but there was a smirk playing around his lips while he eyed the shorter man.  
  
Violet knew the two, of course. The King of Hell, Crowley, who had worked his way up from a lowly crossroads demon like her, and his human consort.   
  
"Oh," the King began, "love, you might want to..."  
  
He was cut off when the human spun him around by the lapels of his coat and pressed him up against the next wall to kiss him. Violet watched with wide eyes and bated breath how Crowley clutched his human's shoulders while the taller man, who stood with his back toward Violet, apparently got to work on his shirt.   
  
"Armani!" she heard the King gasp in protest, but the words were quickly muffled by another demanding kiss. He didn't seem to mind all that much, really. Violet clutched her knife a little tighter, but froze again when Crowley parted lips with his lover and purred, "I do like you high on adrenaline. But..."  
  
Violet watched him as he plucked the forgotten knife from his human's fingers and stepped past him, twirling the weapon nimbly between his fingers. With a start, she realised he was looking right at the dark corner she was wedged in, crouched between a desk and a broken bookshelf, and was sauntering toward her.  
  
" _Darling_ ," he drawled, kiss-reddened lips curled into a condescending smirk, "hasn't anyone ever told you how rude it is to peek?"


	5. Valentine's Day (Destiel with a side of Sabriel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday Prompz: Valentine’s day or just general Date night (where they go, funny escapades that occur, etc.)  
> Castiel doesn't really get the concept of Valentine's Day, not even Cupids do. So when Gabriel starts to manipulate his little brother's meeting with the Winchesters (concerning a hunt) into a date on Valentine's Day, he doesn't notice. Dean on the other hand quickly gets the hints Gabriel (and his own traitor brother) throw in. But how to explain a date to an angel who is currently motivated to go and kill monsters? Just don't and instead go hunting and have a few beers. Screw Gabriel and Sam, if he can't hook up with a random stranger he can at least do something productive. ✅

“I can't _do_ this anymore,” Gabriel moaned dramatically, dropping onto the couch next to Sam with a heavy sigh.  
  
The younger Winchester raised his eyebrows at him. “Do... what exactly?” he inquired carefully.  
  
Gabriel turned wide, mournful eyes at him. “They're making gooey eyes at each other again,” he complained, gesturing at the window. “I swear, if my brother doesn't bend your brother over that car soon, I'll–”  
  
“Gabriel!” Sam protested, flapping a hand at the archangel to shut him up. “Ew!” Despite the mental image, which he hadn't needed to have in his life, like ever, he knew Gabriel had a point. Of sorts. “We can't exactly make them do it,” he pointed out.  
  
Gabriel cocked his head and looked like he wanted to object for a moment, but a warning glare from Sam kept him from voicing whatever scheme was going through his head now.  
  
“Alright,” he conceded, then smirked slyly. “But it _is_ February...”  


~  
  
Dean left the Impala and looked around the road with a frown. “I'm really not sure there's something here, Sammy,” he said. “The way it sounded in the newspaper, these really are just college kids messing around.”  
  
“Oh, I don't know,” Sam responded with a serious frown. “You know how it is. When you least expect it... You and Cas better check it out.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean murmured, then looked up. “Hold on, me and Cas? What about you?”  
  
“Oh, Gabe and me are gonna, uh, have a look at the other side of town. There's been... stuff there. You know.” He smiled entirely unconvincingly and Dean narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Sammy, are you..."  
  
“Anyway!” his younger brother exclaimed loudly, clapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble a step or two toward one of the buildings at the side of the street. “You better go check out that diner while Gabe and I do other... investigate-y... stuff.” He smiled encouragingly while the Angels got out of the car.  
  
“Exactly,” Gabriel agreed. “We're going to investigate so hard I won't be able to wa–”  
  
Sam clapped a hand over his mouth. “What he's trying to say is we're gonna do our part too."  
  
The archangel pulled Sam's hand away a little to add: "So be sure to investigate everything very thoroughly. Especially the wine card.”  
  
“I heard they make a mean chocolate mousse, too,” his brother added casually.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at them. “You two think you're being so subtle, don't you.”  
  
Sam blinked innocently, but Gabriel just rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how done I am with being subtle about you two.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “What are you still doing here?”  
  
Dean glanced over at Cas, who watched the exchange with his head tilted to the side, a quizzical frown drawing his brows together. Poor guy probably had no idea what their siblings were trying to accomplish, but Dean could take a fucking hint when he saw one.  
  
That didn't mean Castiel was interested, though.  
  
Not about to discuss that in front of the Angel in question, he rolled his eyes at the two and then said with forced cheer: “We'd better get going then, huh? C'mon, Cas. We'll scout the place.”  
  
His Angel glanced back and forth between their siblings and Dean, apparently having noticed that he was missing something but unable to figure out what. It was better that way; no need to make a perfectly good casual dinner awkward just because it was the 14th and people were walking around with hearts in their eyes.  
  
Dean took it upon himself to order them drinks because otherwise, Cas might just sit there all evening watching him eat and that was not how one created a comfortable atmosphere. No, Dean decided, watching him nip at his beer carefully made him seem a lot more human already.  
  
“This place is supposed to be haunted?” Cas inquired after a minute of looking around.  
  
They sat in a booth that was a little secluded from the rest of the room; the diner seemed indeed quite nice, tastefully decorated and relatively quiet. Dean was able to look past the Valentine's Day-themed decorations.  
  
"Apparently," he answered, because he couldn't very well say _no, our bullshitting little brothers are trying to set us up together by faking a case._  
  
Cas shook his head. “I can feel no spirit's presence here. I believe Sam might have been misinformed.” He glanced down at their beers and back up at Dean. “We should leave?” he said, making it sound like a question.  
  
The hunter waved him off hastily. "Nah. If Sammy was wrong, then there's no job in town, so we might as well grab a bite before we head back to the motel."  
  
Cas seemed to see the point in that because he nodded, even though the fact that he'd come here for no apparent reason seemed to irk him a little.  
  
Well, screw that. The Angel deserved a day off too, sometimes.  
  
With that in mind, Dean proceeded to spend the rest of the evening distracting Cas (and himself) from whatever else was going on in their lives at the moment, working up a pleasant buzz as he did. Cas matched him drink for drink, but was, of course, far less affected than Dean what with his angelic metabolism and all.  
  
Still, by the time they headed back to the motel, Dean was content with the way the evening had gone. He decided to mark it down as a success, especially since he'd actually managed to make Cas laugh more than once, which wasn't always exactly easy with the stoic Angel.  
  
He led him back inside with a hand placed in the small of his angel's back while recounting some bizarre story which had occurred years ago on a witch hunt and finished just as they reached the door to his room. It drew another throaty chuckle from Cas and Dean grinned smugly.  
  
They sort of lapsed into silence when they reached the room and Dean unlocked the door. Gabriel and Sam weren't home (or maybe they had gotten a separate room, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know), so he trailed towards his bed and cleared his throat.  
  
“So, that was nice,” he said, and how had they gotten from fun to awkward this quickly? It was probably the stupid Valentine's vibes.  
  
“It was,” Castiel confirmed, apparently oblivious to the shift in mood. “Thank you, Dean.”  
  
And with that, he disappeared from the room and Dean dropped onto the bed, kicking off his shoes. Cas had that habit of disappearing as soon as he thought matters were over and done with; despite that, Dean found that the good mood from their not-date lingered. He wasn't going to give Sam and Gabriel any more cannon fodder by telling them that, but the evening had been awesome.  
  
He blinked and lifted his head when he heard a flutter of wings, finding his Angel in the room again.  
  
“Cas?” he inquired. “Everything okay?”  
  
Castiel, looking sort of flustered, cleared his throat. “Gabriel has... very insistently informed me that, um... we seem to have missed a crucial aspect of the evening.”  
  
Dean blinked as he spotted the rose tucked between Cas' shirt buttons. He was going to murder Gabriel. To death.  
  
Laughing nervously, he sat up on the bed. "Oh, you know Gabriel, he gets like that," he responded evasively while he watched Cas approaching the bed. “Don't worry about it.”  
  
“He really seemed quite convinced,” Cas answered, frowning.  
  
Dean was too tipsy to deal with this, honestly.  
  
“When does he ever not?” he asked, thinking that he should probably back away. It wasn't as easy as it sounded while he was sitting on a bed.  
  
Cas, who was by now standing right in front of him, cocked his head to the side, seemingly conceding Dean's point. That didn't stop him from leaning down though and silencing Dean's “look, Cas, I really don't think-” with a dry press of lips on lips.  
  
Of course, Dean's tipsy brain had left the discussion, so he decided it was a good idea to kiss back, and if just to show Cas how it was done properly, angling his head just right and oh, his hair really was as soft as it looked like. Surprisingly, Dean found he liked the feeling of Cas' stubble catching against his own, and once he had figured out what to do with them, the angel's lips were, pardon the pun, absolutely heavenly.  
  
They broke apart when Dean started to feel short of breath and pulled back to stare at Cas, who had a lovely flush on his cheeks, his blue eyes darkened slightly.  
  
“Y'think this is what your brother had in mind?” Dean asked, slightly out of breath.  
  
Cas tilted his head contemplative lot and decided: “I believe so, yes.” His voice sounded even rougher than usual, sending a pleasant tremor down the hunter's spine.  
  
He smirked and plucked the rose from Cas' shirt to hold it out to him.  
  
“Well then. Be my Valentine?”


	6. AU (Destiel, sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday prompt: AU (reverse verse, all human, all angels, a/b/o, coffee shop, college, hs, etc)   
> #all human - Foster care family#  
> Little Sam and Dean have lost their mother a few years back but now is the moment their father snapped. After a psychotic breakdown, John is admitted into a closed ward and the brothers, now fourteen and ten years old, are given into a foster family. (After living through a horrible month in a boys home). The Novaks' family is big and different. Yes, they are quite religious but decent people. Still, the brothers have trouble fitting in, Sam clinging to Dean in support as he's always done. Only after a while (and a little breakdown) Dean allows himself to be taken care of and the older boy Castiel has every intention to not hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so writing kids is bloody hard. I hope this turned out okay. ^^

Dean squeezed Sam's small hand in his own as the door opened. His younger brother shuffled a little closer to him as a man with slightly tousled curls entered the room with one of the women who worked at the foster home.

The man smiled at them, small and non-threatening, as he sat down at the opposite end of the table.

"Hi," he said, fidgeting a little. As if _he_ had any reason to be nervous. "My name's Chuck Novak. I'd like to adopt you two."

~

The Novak household was... different, to say the least. Chuck apparently already had children, three of whom—sugar-addicted high school student Gabriel, little redheaded Anna and quiet, 16-year-old Castiel—still lived at home. They were more religious than any family Dean had ever met, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; no, they were all being ridiculously _nice_.

After what he'd heard from the other boys at the foster home about foster families, Dean was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He and Sam had gotten their own room each, but every night as soon as the house was silent, Sammy sneaked his way through the hallway to Dean's room to crawl under the covers with his elder brother. He didn't talk about it—he didn't talk much at all lately—but Dean knew that Sammy was just as apprehensive about this as he was.

Being on his guard at all times (because he couldn't make Sammy do that, the boy was ten, for god's sake) was exhausting. He wasn't sure how much he was allowed to expect from this family—hell, they'd gotten him and his little brother out of the foster home, that alone he was already incredibly grateful for—and in a mute agreement, he and Sam didn't ask for anything.

As it turned out, Dean was going to visit the same school as Castiel, who was in his last year. The older boy showed him around on his first day; Dean followed, silently clutching his bag straps and nodding at the appropriate moments, but his mind was with Sam, who _didn't_ have anyone to show him around. If Castiel was taken aback by his silence, he didn't let it show.

Dean was incredibly relieved when he got back to the Novak's and found his little brother at the dinner table, reluctantly accepting candies from Gabriel while the elder boy helped him with his homework. Upon spotting Dean, he was up and throwing his arms around his elder brother in seconds. Dean hugged him back just as tightly and ruffled his hair before he joined him at the table, since that was the easiest way to stay close to him in case he needed anything.

Plus, Gabriel casually slid a chocolate bar over to him after he'd mumbled a greeting and gotten his maths textbooks out.

Dean guessed they were good people. Actually, he was pretty convinced of it.

That was the _problem_.

He and Sammy? Sure, he loved his dad, but this wasn't the way John had raised them. The moment he'd met Castiel, with his neat dress shirt and nice shoes and quiet politeness, he knew that they wouldn't fit in with these people, and at some point, they were bound to realise it too and that meant he and Sam would have to go back.

Chuck's gentle, but stern reprimand when Dean had dug into his dinner before the family had said their prayers was still painfully clear in his mind. Or the way that Chuck insisted to be called just that instead of 'sir' or 'Mr Novak', as Dean had originally gone for. (He didn't try and make them say 'dad', which both boys appreciated a lot.)

He would realise they weren't right for him. Especially Dean. Sooner or later, he had to.

Dean caught himself biting the inside of his lip so hard that he could taste the copper tang of blood. Sam still hadn't said a word despite Gabriel chatting away merrily and Castiel hovering in the background, probably with his nose in a book or something, and suddenly having people around was a little too much to bear.

The elder Winchester boy sucked in a steadying breath and muttered an indistinct “'scuse me” before he fled the kitchen, scurried through the living room, where Chuck was listening to little Anna babble nonsensically, and hurried up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind himself tightly.

He didn't know how to deal with this family. They were so _ridiculously_ perfect and then there was Dean, who couldn't even get his little brother to talk to anyone but him, and even that mostly when Sam snuck into his room because he couldn't sleep on his own.

Frustratedly fighting back tears (he was way too old to cry, dammit), Dean leaned back against his door and wrapped his arms around himself. He'd be fine in a minute. He was gonna smile and walk back down there because there was that stupidly harmonic family right there and he wasn't gonna screw things up for Sammy by making the Novaks kick them out.

A knock on the door at his back nearly made him jump out of his skin and he quickly wiped his cheeks.

“Sammy?”

There was a moment of silence, then a voice much to deep to be his brother's, “no, actually. It's Castiel.”

Dean leaned back against the door and tried to keep his voice cheerful and casual as he replied. “Oh. Cas. Castiel, I mean, shit.” He felt like banging his head back against the door. Not even ten words in and he'd already misstepped.

There was another second of contemplative silence, then the older boy answered, “I think I like Cas. It's alright.” Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, feeling both relieved and pathetic for panicking like this in the first place. “Can I come in?”

“Uh...” He wiped over his cheeks again, quickly, frantically, pressing back harder against the door. “I – just a moment, I've gotta...”

“You don't have to say yes,” Castiel... Cas cut in. “It's fine.”

Dean took a slow, shuddering breath while he contemplated that. Whom was he kidding, it was pretty unlikely that Cas couldn't imagine what state he was in. Because of course the damn Novaks had to be smart, too.

“'s okay,” he mumbled, nearly inaudible, and forced himself to take a step away from the door. “Come in.”

He took a fortifying breath and strolled over toward his desk so he could pretend he was sorting through his pencils. Mostly, he did it because it meant he wouldn't be awkwardly standing in the middle of the room while Cas opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind himself again softly.

There was a moment of silence. Again. Dean felt ridiculous pushing pencils back and forth across the surface of the table.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Cas asked then and Dean was sure that if the Novaks had made him go and see a therapist, this would have been exactly what they sounded like.

He clenched his jaw, his whole body going taut as he tried to suppress the shaking of his shoulders. He couldn't have been too successful, for a moment later Castiel's hand was on his shoulder and Dean heard himself sniff noisily as the soft, warm touch somehow managed to crumble his resolve to take this like a proper Winchester man faster than his previous worry about his little brother.

Cas was making slightly awkward, but undoubtedly well-intentioned shushing noises as he carefully tugged Dean around with the hand on his shoulder. Half to avoid having to look at the taller boy and half because Cas was like, _right there_ , Dean turned and buried his face in the fabric of the other's shirt with a hitched, half-swallowed sound that was _not_ a sob, no matter what anyone else would have described it as. There was a hand reassuringly stroking through his hair and another one on his back.

“What is it?” Cas inquired carefully. “Did Gabriel say something? He means well, usually, but he can be...”

Dean shook his head and tried to catch his breath before this got any more embarrassing. But now he'd let Cas into the room and he was letting the dude hug him and it felt like he owed him a little explanation at least.

“'s not Gabriel,” he hiccuped into Castiel's shirt. “I– I just–” He couldn't _tell_ Cas about this, he was going to throw him out or laugh at him or maybe both. With a small shake of his head and a sniffle, Dean attempted to pull away. “Nothing. Forget it. 'm sorry.”

The elder boy... held him in place. Not clinging, not exactly forcefully, but pulling Dean back in when he'd moved away. “Go on,” he encouraged quietly. Dean could feel his voice resonating where he was pressed against Cas' chest and the older boy was hesitating, apparently searching for the right words himself, now. Eventually, he settled on pointing out, tentatively but sincerely, “I'm your brother too now, you know. You can tell me.”

Dean froze for a second and then found himself crying into Castiel's shirt harder. He could feel the other boy tense and the hand petting his hair still for a second before it resumed its motions, a little hastily.

“I'm sorry, I– I didn't mean to –” Cas stuttered. “That was supposed to –”

Dean apologised right back at him, although it came out as more of a string of garbled mumblings, and seriously, the other boy's shirt was going to be ruined by the end of this.

“You're– you're all just so–” He dragged in another stuttering breath. “You're all being nice and so freakin' _perfect_ , I dunno how to –” The words ground to a halt when he felt more than heart Cas laughing. “What's so funny?” He meant for it to sound annoyed, but it came out as more of a whine.

“That is... really lovely of you to say,” the older boy replied, “but in all honesty, Dean, we are not perfect.” Dean mumbled a muffled protest, but Cas went on relentlessly: “Father hasn't spoken to Lucifer or even Balthazar in ages and he won't say it but he misses mother. Gabriel gets incredibly self-conscious when you call him out on being chubby, but go ahead and try catching him without a chocolate bar. I... I can't seem to talk to people normally. Which you might have noticed if you had actually talked to any of us in the past few days.”

Dean blinked, sniffling. He'd been so fixated on Sam he hadn't noticed that yeah, he had been sort of silent, too. Maybe if he just went ahead and set a positive example for his little brother, he would start opening up, too.

Still... “I don't think I can be as well-behaved as you or Gabriel.”

This time, Castiel's laugh was definitely audible. “Did you just call Gabriel well-behaved?”

Dean pulled away a little, wiping at his eyes before he glanced up at his... adopted brother. “Well,” he began carefully. “Yes?”

Cas smiled at him, one hand still resting on the younger boy's shoulder. “Why don't you try and interact with him for a few days and then tell me that again.”

It wasn't hard to see that as the challenge it was; _if you want to know whether we're going to kick you out or not, you'll have to take the risk of actually getting to_ know _us_.

Dean swallowed and then nodded with shaky determination.

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

_  
_


	7. Angst (Drowstiel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley deserves to be loved, he really does. And finally he fights his little demons enough to admit that much to himself. And he wants to be loved by Castiel, the rebellious little angel, the Winchesters' other pet. Crowley thought he made his intentions clear but the Angel has no idea. So when the four of them are going on a hunt and Dean and Castiel are close as usual the King of hell is actually a teeny tiny bit hurt.  
> After a while Castiel finally understands what's going on and promises him that he wouldn't ever play with Crowley, especially in this context.

Of course it would be Dean Winchester. It shouldn't surprise Crowley, it honestly shouldn't, but that didn't make watching him interact with Castiel any easier.

The angel had been reacting amiably to Crowley's subtle advances, more so than the demon had thought possible when he'd first started – for all intents and purposes, it had been so he would later be able to tell himself that hey, at least he had tried. But Castiel hadn't seemed to mind his careful courting, so Crowley had stupidly gone and gotten his hopes up, right up until the point where he'd agreed to accompany the Winchesters and their bloody pet angel on a hunt.

He stabbed the creature in front of him with more vicious anger than probably necessary and, while it was still reeling from the blow, took its head clean off of its shoulders.

That gave him a bit of breathing space and he turned just to see Castiel pulling up Dean from the concrete ground, keeping one hand on the human's shoulder to steady him even as he had regained his footing. Dean patted the angel's back and they separated again, returning their attention to the creatures filling the warehouse, but the moment had been there. And it wasn't like it was the first one this evening.

Crowley growled, twirled his blade between his fingers and turned toward the creature closest to him. Well, at least he had something to take his frustrations out on.

~

They finished the hunt without anyone dying or even getting injured beyond a few scratches and bruises that would fade quickly, and apparently moose and squirrel were still awake enough to decide there should be celebratory beers.

Never one to turn company down, Crowley agreed to tag along and found himself in a run-down, but not too shabby bar with the boys about half an hour later.

He should have just gone home.

Crowley glared at the table they were sat on in the little booth they'd found. Dean had been quick to slide into the seat next to Castiel, which meant Crowley sat next to Sam and sipped his drink, tuning the older Winchester's nagging about the colourful little umbrella on top out. He could make his drinks look as gay as he pleased, thank you very much, he didn't need to listen to anyone complaining about it.

Especially not Dean Winchester. Who was touching Castiel. _Again_.

Casual little things. A hand on the angel's shoulder when he wanted his attention, his hand on the other man's forearm while he laughed, hell, the way he leaned toward the angel when he told him something. And it wasn't like Castiel seemed to mind; not at all, no. He leaned into Dean's touches, looking for all the world like there was nowhere he would rather be.

It wasn't like he had any sort of claim over him, Crowley reminded himself. Despite the gnawing feeling of jealousy twisting in his chest and maybe a tiny little bit of resentment toward Castiel for leading him on like that, but who the hell was he to complain about things like that? It wasn't like he hadn't done it to plenty of lovers, himself, and him and the angel weren't even getting it on.

Crowley grimaced. No, that definitely didn't make him feel better.

“What, that stuff turn out too sweet for you after all?” Dean teased, apparently assuming his expression stemmed from whatever bad taste his oh-so-girly drink had left in his mouth.

The demon sent him a glare and set his glass down on the table with enough vehemence to make the nearly untouched drink slosh over the rim onto his fingers and the sleeve of his suit. God dammit.

“I need some air,” he almost snarled and slid out of the booth, ignoring three sets of eyes following him outside. Granted, he could just have disappeared, but that would leave him without the shallow satisfaction of slamming the door of the pub shut behind himself. He thought he was entitled a little petty drama.

Outside, when the cool night air hit him, he went to bury his hands in his pockets, then remembered the one covered in sticky sweet fruit cocktail and began to shake it with a grimace to get rid of the liquid. Great. Now he just felt ridiculous.

He'd only wandered a few aimless steps across the parking lot when the door opened again, spilling light and noise out onto the concrete. The demon didn't turn; that could have been anyone.

“Crowley?”

Aw, hell.

“Get back inside, feathers,” he told Castiel with a hint of venom in his tone. “Squirrel's going to miss his snuggle buddy.”

He swore he could _hear_ the angel's confused head tilt. The door fell shut, dampening the sounds from outside to a dull background murmur, and for a moment Crowley thought Castiel had indeed turned and gone back inside, but then there was the sound of shoes on concrete, coming to a halt about two feet away from him.

Crowley crossed his arms, refusing to turn. He didn't know what Castiel wanted, but he wasn't going to let the angel laugh at him.

“Actually,” came the raspy reply from behind him, “it was Dean who told me to go after you.”

“Oh, _great_ ,” the demon scoffed. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, hate to have torn you two lovebirds apart, I'm fine, you can go now.” He wasn't going to put up with their pity now, too. It was bad enough that of all people, it was Castiel whom he was feeling... very undemonic things toward, he wasn't about to make it worse by indulging the idea that the angel actually _cared_. After all, he'd seen him with Dean not five minutes ago.

“You seem upset,” Castiel observed carefully.

Something inside Crowley snapped.

He turned on his heel to face the angel and snapped curtly: “I'm going to make this easy for you, feathers. There's such a thing as common courtesy and what falls into that category is that if you're not interested, you _tell_ people. There's no need to shove it in their face.”

Castiel was staring at him with his brows furrowed into that quizzical expression he sometimes got, with the confused head-tilt to go along with it. “Not... interested?” he repeated slowly. “Interested in what?”

Crowley gaped at him. The righteous fury he'd been so nicely building up was threatening to crumble in the face of Castiel's innocent confusion. “You're kidding, right?” he asked. “You're having me on.”

The angel raised his shoulders in a helpless, barely-there shrug. “I– I'm not entirely sure I know what you...” He trailed off uncertainly and Crowley laughed incredulously, half-turning away from him.

“Incredible,” he chuckled to himself, almost hysterically. “You're so bloody clueless I'm not even sure it's adorable anymore. I'm actually going to have to say it, aren't I. You're going to make me _say_ it, you bastard.”

By now, the angel looked genuinely concerned. “Have I done something wrong?” he asked worriedly. “I didn't mean to cause you...” He made a vague, aborted gesture, which probably meant something along the lines of _...whatever this is_.

The demon shook his head and took a deep breath. If Castiel hadn't even taken notice of the fact that Crowley had been flirting with him more heavily – and more seriously, too – than was usual for him, then it was unlikely that this would lead to anything, but he felt like he owed the angel an explanation at least for why he was going to be avoiding him for a while after this talk was over and done with. Common courtesy and all that.

“Castiel,” he began, forcing the angel's full name instead of one of his many nicknames past his lips. This was harder than he had expected. “I'm honestly baffled that this has manged to slip past your notice...” And he did– _he deserved to be loved_ , but maybe he'd– he'd have to find someone other than the angel. It wasn't that big of a deal, right? “...but I've been spending the past few weeks courting you.” Except that he wanted Castiel, not some human or even an idiotic demon he could get anywhere.

And now the angel was staring at him, wide-eyed and a little stunned. Oh, great.

Quickly, to get it over with already, Crowley continued: “And I get that the _profound bond_ that you and squirrel share is obviously something that I won't –”

“You have been courting me?” Castiel interrupted and the demon cringed a little. He was suddenly dreadfully certain that the angel was going to spend the rest of his long existence hating him for even entertaining the thought of them together.

“As I said, I thought it was obvious,” he muttered at the general direction of the angel's shoes.

“Well, it wasn't.” That sounded almost petulant.

What was the point of continuing this conversation, exactly? He was only going to make a fool of himself.

_In for a penny, in for a pound_. “I took you for dinner three times in four weeks. I've been sticking around with the Gruesome Twosome when you were around – you didn't seriously think it was for their sake, did you? I mean, I get that innuendos go right over your pretty little head, but I brought you _flowers_ that one time, for pity's sake.” Castiel made a sound like he was about to say something and Crowley plunged on: “There were actual _bees_ on the wrapping paper.”

Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly. “They were very nice flowers,” he offered tentatively.

Crowley snorted. “Thanks.”

“So all that was...”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. So if you don't mind, I'm going to dig myself a hole now and –”

“Wait.” There was a hand closing around his forearm and Crowley looked up into Castiel's earnest blue eyes. “I haven't declined.”

The demon blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“I did not realise you were courting me. Therefore, I haven't actually had a chance to say yes or no,” the angel elaborated.

Crowley squinted some more, trying to suppress the stubborn spark of hope lighting up in his chest. Castiel didn't have the cruelty to toy with him like that, he _knew_ that much – the angel had never really understood the concept of being purposefully cruel, but that didn't mean that this was going to proceed in the direction he was picturing.

“So what?” he asked warily.

Castiel, looking somewhere between nervous and determined in a way that only he could make work, replied, “So I think it would be only fair if you let me choose. For myself.”

Crowley cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “So, assuming you hadn't missed my weeks of really quite obvious advances on you, what do you think your answer would be?” he posed the question Castiel had not-so-subtly been angling for. He was nearly smug about how stable his voice sounded.

And then, the angel smiled at him, the hand that was still resting on Crowley's forearm tightening a little.

“I would very much like to accept your courtship. And I think I have some time to make up for.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! I hope you all enjoyed yourselves, Hikari and I certainly did. :)


End file.
